Jinxed Redux
by Adelled
Summary: Inspired by tillygirl's You're the One that I'm Dreaming of - go read it now! Mary moves to Albuquerque but Jinx and Brandi stay in Jersey - until Jinx disappears. Gangsters, car chases and gun fights, oh my.
1. Chapter 1

Jinxed Redux

Disclaimer: Not mine

IPS*IPS* IPS*IPS* IPS*IPS* IPS*IPS* IPS*IPS* IPS*IPS*

Chapter 1 – Albuquerque Dreaming

Eyes narrowing, Mary squinted as she never squant before. _Is_ _squant even a word?_ Mary wondered. _Before Marshall I_ _would never even have thought about that._ Winter sun streamed through the windows of the Sunshine Building spotlighting Marshall as he sat at his desk in the quiet WITSEC office. _Perfect target._

After meeting the man in her dreams Mary moved to Albuquerque with its funny smelling air, enormous mountains and bright sun. Their shared realistic dreams were proof of a connection even before they met. Marshall thought they had some sort of psychic hot line. Mary wasn't sure what to call it, but, as hard as she tried, she couldn't deny it.

Leaving the Fugitive Task Force hadn't been difficult. Although she loved the hunt, loved the adrenaline high of kicking in doors and snapping on handcuffs, it was a tough life. Always on the move. Dealing with the worst of the worst. Her view of her fellow man, never sanguine, was sharpened into cynicism by dealing with the society's scum. It felt good to get these criminals off the street and unable to prey on innocent victims. But she felt her former 'partner' was extra weight required by the job. He was in the way. They were partners by assignment, but never functioned that way. She did what she thought necessary. He kept out of her way—if he wanted to keep all his bits attached. She tolerated the other FTF marshals, and most granted her the same consideration.

WITSEC was different. Being partnered with Marshall was very different. Despite their dream connection, she didn't know what to make of this guy, this geek, this bad ass lawman with the quiet demeanor. _Demeanor, who in the hell says that?_ She had come to trust him, but their approach to witnesses was so different, almost opposites, she couldn't understand why they worked so well together. In any situation, he knew what she would do next. She seemed to sense when he was going to move and was able to follow, or provide cover, or whatever was needed. It was strange, weird, but she never thought about it until afterwards. Something about those dreams had welded them into a working unit, partners.

Marshall said it was their 'destiny' or some such shit. She didn't believe that, but she was coming to believe him.

Leaving her mother and sister in Paramus was like taking off a girdle. No more waiting for the next mess. No more calls to get her mother from some honky tonk. Fewer hysterical calls from her sister, who called when she found a new pair of sick shoes, and when she actually was sick and needed someone to pick up meds, or hold her hair over the porcelain throne. Brandi and Jinx still called. _Damn cheap cell phone plans._ Being the dutiful daughter and sister, she took their calls, much of the time. 3,000 miles of insulation helped reduce their expectatios. Mary felt drama free. Well, family drama free. The beauty of New Mexico and the devotion of the man sitting at the desk across from her made Albuquerque more comfortable than New Jersey ever was.

WITSEC wasn't so bad either. She liked telling people what to do. Her witnesses had better toe the MOU or they'd be dead. She felt useful. She liked showing them how to stay beneath the radar, and what to do if they didn't. She didn't pull any punches. Criminal informants were treated to Inspector Shannon at full throttle. The threat of her displeasure added to the very real threat posed by those they had ratted out usually got them to toe the line. Mary didn't get what attracted Marshall to WITSEC. She didn't understand why he behaved the way he did with witnesses. She did pay attention.

Returning her attention to the WITSEC office and Marshall checking her location while continuing to build his arsenal of paper wad ammunition, she quickly eyeballed the Chief's office. From what she could see, Stan was focusing on a phone call, and not the two Inspectors spitball battle_. Hope it isn't another witness transport_, Mary thought. _We haven't had a quiet night this week. _

Stan was surprised at Mary's effectiveness. He didn't believe for a moment that her abrasive pessimism was limited to the office. Marshall had smiled his "I told you so" grin when Stan expressed his approval of Mary's successes. Marshall's eyed had twinkled with more than the pleasure at having his opinion of Inspector Shannon validated.

Not every witness was ready for the unvarnished and frequently profane 'reality' Mary forced on them. Despite her gruffness, Marshall had seen her go to the mat for a witness. She bent several regs to get Leo Billups biological father co-located with Leo's adopted family. The resulting arrangement had been surprisingly trouble free and stable. In all his years, neither Marshall nor Stan had ever seen a WITSEC Inspector pull so many strings for a witness. Stan wasn't sure which (or whose) strings she had pulled. Somewhere, someone owed Inspector Shannon, and she was collecting.

Straw poised for attack, Mary turned and aimed. "Phoo" followed another 'phoo' as tiny paper balls were propelled through a straw, failing to penetrate his defenses. "C'mon Mare, you can do better than that," Marshall taunted. His protective manila folder wall had foiled her assault. "We're talkin' spitball cham-peen. Bring your A game." Marshall loved egging her on. He knew her competitive spirit would drive out common sense and common courtesy.

"I'll bring it, all right. I am bringin' it right to that crap load of trivia that passes for your brain," Mary muttered. She wondered if a properly aimed spitball would cause a gush of trivia all over his desk. "You're days as spitball champion are so over, Doofus."

Marshall retaliated with a spitwad that landed balanced on the top edge of her tank top, right between her breasts. "_Sweet_," he thought. His thoughts wandered to just how her sweet her softness could be. Distracted his manila folder shield dipped.

Mary looked up and down for Marshall's last shot, but gave that up when she saw she had a clear shot at her opponent. She quickly calculated trajectories; air conditioning and the weight of her paper pellet, the length of the straw. Mary took aim, and landed a damp ball of paper right in the middle of his forehead.

His file folder shield once more in place, Marshall prepared for another assault. Neither heard the door of Stan's office open or the sound of his footsteps as he approached, folder in hand. He had an officially disapproving but amused twist of his mouth.

Marshall's cheeks pinked when he realized they'd been caught. Stan arrived at their desks, looked at Marshall, and made a flicking motion toward his forehead. Marshall swiped his forehead removing the offending object. With Marshall distracted, Mary had a clear shot, and took aim.

"What?" Mary bleated to Marshall, who nodded in Stan's direction. She had seen Stan, but took the shot anyway. Stan was a mystery. He seemed to be a big pussycat, but no U.S. Marshal was ever mistaken for a domesticated feline. _Aaargh, Marshall stop putting words in my head!_ For now, she accepted Stan's direction, usually. For his part, Stan was careful not to give the volatile Inspector "orders," relying on Marshall to keep her from breaking too many regulations.

"Oh," Mary smiled gamely, swept her 'weapon' and 'ammunition; into her desk drawer, and looked up innocently. "Watcha got Stan?"

Stan's eyes were riveted on the spitball trapped in her cleavage. He cleared his throat, and wrenched his gaze to Marshal. "Inspectors?" He appered to be asking if these two childish individuals actually were Inspectors and U.S. Marshals.

"There's been an incident." He intoned, lightly balancing on the balls of his feet, tapping the folder on his other hand.

"Whose witness?" Marshall asked, mentally skimming through his problem witnesses, knowing Mary was doing the same.

"Technically," Stan paused, leaning back a bit and taking a breath, "neither of yours."

Mary sat up straight and caught sight of the spitball in her shirt. She flicked it towards Marshall. Looking back at Stan "Then, why tell us?"

"It's Jinx," Stan continued, looking at Mary. "Jinx Shannon." As if there was room in the world for two Jinxes. Mary's face went blank, remembering all the ways her alcoholic mother had gotten into trouble in the past. Turning to Stan, her upturned face waited for the bad news.

"I received notice from the New Jersey Marshal's office that her car was reported stolen. Neither she or her car have been located." Stan didn't like being the bearer of bad news, but he never hesitated. "This is all they've got," he said placing the file folder on her desk.

Mary skimmed the folder's contents, stood up and pushed her chair back so suddenly it tipped. Stuffing the folder into her messenger bag, she prepared to leave, mumbling "what the hell, ma." Mary asked flatly "Who reported it?"

"Your sister, Brandi," Stan informed her.

Mary paused in her scramble to look at the ceiling, and rolled her eyes. She seemed to be begging the heavens for patience, but Marshall knew she was thinking, calculating. "She's been gone how long?"

"A little over 24 hours. Not enough for her to be considered missing, but a marshal's family gets special consideration." Even though Mary's family had no idea she was in WITSEC, the service looked out for its own – and their families.

"Breathe, Mare." Marshall said, attempting to calm her, while his fingers flew over his keyboard. "I've got this." A few more keystrokes and Marshall told her, "Two tickets to Newark, leaving in two hours. 'll meet you at the United counter.". He stuck files in the desk, locked it and turned off his computer.

"Stan?" Marshall looked to the Chief. He knew Stan would pull out all the stops for Mary. Since joining Albuquerque WITSEC office, no witnesses had been lost or left the program. That was certain to change over time, but the figures from Albuquerque WITSEC were good, better than most. Despite her negative attitude, she was easy on the eyes and brightened up the place. Mary's good results weren't the only reason Stan would help Mary any way he could.

"As soon as I hear anything," Stan replied, watching Marshall, wondering why his senior Inspector was so affected by whatever had happened to his partner's mother. He knew they were closes, functioned like a well oiled machine, but he hadn't given much thought to their relationship or their developing friendship.

Noticing Marshall's curious expression, Stan followed his gaze to see Mary approaching Eleanor. The two women had a tempestuous relationship, sharpening their barbs on one another. Hoping for a quiet farewell, or at the very least, minimal explosive expletives, neither man was prepared for what happened next.

"I need your help," Mary murmured quietly, looking down at her own claspedhands_ (I'm not wringing my hands. I'm not.)_ No snark, no derogatory comments, just a quiet plea.

Eleanor looked up, startled by the blonde Inspector's uncharacteristic civility. She had heard what Stan had told Mary, but was unprepared to see the Inspector right in front of her. She stared at Mary uncomprehending.

"I'll…I'll buy you coffee for a month." Not hearing a reply, but slanting her eyes to the side, Mary continued, "OK, I'll buy everyone coffee for a month, and, and" she hesitated trying to figure out what would secure Eleanor's cooperation. "I won't ask for money."

Finally, looking at Eleanor, Mary saw her expression soften, when a hard gleam appeared in Eleanor's eyes.

"You'll do your own transfer and insertion forms for two months and write up all your own visit reports," Eleanor demanded sitting up straight in her chair, lips pursed. "And buy coffee for everyone, for a month." While her cheapness _(frugality, Mary thought)_ was common knowledge, Mary was startled that Eleanor knew Marshall did some of her paperwork. Mary caught Eleanor's eye and nodded, expression dour.

Eleanor turned to her computer and huffed and said "You know you didn't have to ask. I was already working on it."

Mary quirked a half smile and snarked "You mean I don't have to do my own paperwork?"

"You do now," Eleanor said acerbically concentrating on the screen before her.

Mary took a deep breath and felt marginally better knowing Eleanor's considerable skills were being used for her mother. Mary gave her the details Eleanor would need. Marshall realized that she didn't try to renege on paying for coffee. He knew it means Mary was deeply concerned.

"This her car?" Eleanor asked, tilting her monitor so Mary could see the car title. "Yeah, that's it." Mary acknowledged. "Is there anything from local police, or junk yards? She wouldn't part with that car. It's the only thing from Daddy she has."

"No, Eleanor replied. I'll keep checking.

"C'mon Mare, let's get going," Marshall touched her elbow, urging her through the security door. Mary was silent in the elevator and didn't speak as Marshall drove them to his place. She walked robotically to the door, stopping to wait for Marshall.

Once the door closed, Mary turned to Marshall. Standing face to face Mary moaned"What's she done now?" She was speaking to his shirt front and Marshall took the opportunity to nestle her into his arms. Mary didn't like be held, but it was different when it was Marshall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: New Jersey Nightmares **

**Summary: **Mary and Marshall get an unexpected welcome.

Chapter 2 – New Jersey Nightmares

They made a quick stop at Marshall's adding stuff necessary for a longer stay to their go bags . Mary had enough clothes there to make a trip to her own place unnecessary. Marshall stood behind her as she emptied 'her' drawer and said "Good thing you have clothes here. We'll barely make our flight." Mary exhaled and stood up, leaning back into Marshall. "Yeah," Mary admitted, "you were right. I'm glad I have stuff here, especially these," she said holding up a pair of fur lined boots.

With the passenger seat belt snug on her hips, Mary got her phone. "Squish?"

"What's going on?" Mary moved the phone away from her ear. The loud wailing sound could be heard throughout the truck.

"Squish, squish – I need to know what happened so I can help."

The wailing subsided and Mary listened for a few minutes."Yes, I'm coming." Marshall smirked, but returned to driving under her death glare. Knowing what she needed next, Marshall handed her their itinerary. "Our flight gets into Newark about 6 p.m." she told the distraught blonde.

"No, no. You don't need to come to the airport. We'll rent something." Brandi asked something, her sobs clearly heard in the confines of the car.

Mary was experienced with interpreting Brandi speak and replied "My partner."

"Yeah, Marshall, remember him? Yeah, yeah, Marshal Marshall." Preparing to end the call, Mary softly responded "Uh huh. You too."

Suddenly, loudly, Mary interrupted her farewell to add "Squish, squish –wait - who's handling the case? Who is the police officer, the detective you've been talking to?"

"Canon, Newark PD. Got it. "

"Hang in there, just a few hours. We'll be there," she repeated, nodding to her partner.

On the way to Sunport, Mary called the office and relayed the additional information gleaned from Brandi. She leaned her head against the seat back and closed her eyes.

Marshall's hand reached for hers. Catching a glimpse, she moved her hand to his. Mary sighed, turned to him with a sad smile and said "Thanks."

**Newark Airport**

Mary had irritated Marshall and most of the other passengers the entire flight by tapping. She would have walked the entire way to New Jersey, but the stewardesses wouldn't let her get up after she paced from the front bathroom to the back. After three trips, they 'requested' she sit down, and stay seated.

Marshall reviewed the file and tried to discuss it with Mary. He asked about her mother's apartment, where her sister lived, where they worked, where her mother went. Mary answered by rote, but Marshall made careful notes in the file.

Go-bags in hand, Mary and Marshall got in line for a rental car. Mary scoffed at the need for a GPS but Marshall insisted. She acquiesced because tech toys took his mind off bigger problems – Mary's problems. She didn't want to talk about it. Not yet.

Mary took the keys from the agent and headed out. This was her old stomping grounds. Not exactly the way she wanted to share this place with Marshall, but it was what it was. Once in the car and out of the garage, Mary headed for Paramus and her sister. Holding on to the 'oh shit' bar, Marshall tried to find the right wording to get Mary to acknowledge the speed limit on NJ-17.

"Mare?"

"Hmm," she grunted.

"Speed?"

"What?" she replied sharply.

"We aren't on official business," he reminded her. "Our badges won't get you out of a speeding ticket."

"Wanna bet?" she taunted with a lazy smile.

"A little cleavage, a smile and 'gee officer I was going how fast?" Marshall recited in falsetto, mocking her.

Mary smiled, a tight small smile, but a smile nevertheless. He remembered. He had seen her use almost that exact scenario to get out of a ticket just last week.

He cleared his throat and harrumphed as if making an important announcement, "There will be no display of cleavage or other usually clothed body parts when your partner is in the passenger seat."

Mary cut her eyes to the rear seat, and said "It's available, you can move any time." She did take her foot out of the gas tank.

"Marshall, Col. Fuentes – head of the state police - is a bud. And he owes me."

"Col. Fuentes?" Marshall retorted, intrigued. "You never mentioned him." Every part of Mary, past, present and future intrigued him. The dreams had given him an unprecedented insight into her character, but didn't contain a lot of details of her past. Details he was anxious to know.

"It was a long time ago,"Mary answered, looking straight ahead, not allowing the discussion to distract her from driving. After the sparse traffic of New Mexico, the congestion of Jersey required her to concentrate. "The Jersey State Police needed a help with a fugitive. I hunted fugitives. We, we . . . um. . . . traded information. Interagency cooperation, you know."

"As long as that's all you exchanged," he threatened with mock seriousness. Marshall had a difficult time imagining Mary as cooperative – to any agency.

Mary cried out "Marshall!" Without glancing his way she smacked his bicep so hard he winced and rubbed it. "Fuentes is old enough to be my father," her voice trailed off. Quietly she added "It wasn't like that."

He sighed_. What's past is past. Fuentes hadn't appeared in his dreams of Mary._

"Jealous?" Mary taunted. There was no comparison between Marshall and Fuentes. While Col. Fuentes was in good shape for his age, Mary thought of him as an uncle. An uncle with useful connections.

"Yup," he admitted.

"Aaaaaw," Mary punched his arm again. "That's sweet."

"Ouch! and really?" he paused rubbing his arm. "I figured you might be mad. It's not as if I own you."

Mary slowed the car to speed limit maximum and hazarded a glance at him.

"But I do belong with you," she stated with such certainty Marshall couldn't understand how his heart stayed in his chest. "Our dreams proved it."

"And I with you,"was Marshall's heartfelt response.

" U." Mary teased.

He sang "And sometimes Y."

"Numbnuts, with you I always wonder why." _Why would this gentle, thoughtful, intelligent bad ass want anything to do with her? Why had they shared those dreams?_

Checking the GPS Marshall noted, "Next exit, Mare." Checking lanes and mirrors Mary started moving to the right. As she changed lanes, she noticed a black SUV moving up next to her. Too close, too fast, too damn close.

Mary yelled, "Brace," and swerved back into the lane.

"Plates," said Marshall, turning around and aiming out the rear window, the seat belt tightened around his lanky torso. Instead of his glock he held his phone, snapping several pictures, hoping one was clear enough to read the license on the car that tried to sideswipe them.

Mary slowed the car and tried to get behind the SUV. It slowed too, but traffic was too heavy to allow the maneuver to work indefinitely. Mary worked her way to the exit lane, missing the intended off ramp.

The black SUV was nowhere to be seen.

"He's ahead of us," Marshall observed, scanning the vehicles around them.

"Who in the hell would be after us in Jersey?" Mary wondered, gripping the steering wheel tightly, eyes scanning the traffic, before lighting briefly on her partner.

"And why?" added Marshall. "Any old boyfriends holding a grudge? Any fugitives you captured on the loose here?"

"No fugitives. I would have been notified." Mary replied. "You?"

"Nuh uh, no boyfriends" he replied playfully.

"There better not be," Mary muttered.

"We're not going to Brandi," Mary stated. "Find us a place." The blonde tossed her hair checking the traffic, watching for suspicious cars, especially black SUVs.

"There's a Hampton Inn in Harrison." Marshall said looking at his phone. Reaching over, he programmed the GPS.

Following the signs _(and the GPS, although she would never admit it) _Mary pulled into the parking lot of the motel and stopped. Marshall was on his Blackberry, texting Eleanor.

Taking her hands off the wheel and pushing the seat back to stretch her legs, Mary scanned the area and let out a huge sigh, followed by a quiet "What mother humper wants to run us off the road? Who knows we're here?"

Shaking off her worried speculation, she looked at Marshall. "Anything from Eleanor?"

Head down checking the screen, Marshall answered "Not yet."

Closing her eyes, she sighed, "Have Stan call the Newark Marshal's office. Maybe they can run the plates, give us a clue to what the hell just happened."

"Stan? Something seriously hinkey just happened on NJ-17" After explaining to Stan, he asked, "Can you connect me to the Newark marshals? Yeah, an introduction couldn't hurt."

After a minute or so, Marshall's phone clicked over and a deep baritone asked "Marshal Marshall Mann?"

"Yes, sir," Marshall answered.

"Stanley tells me you have a few questions. This is Chief Inspector John Varney, Newark Annex."

Marshall described the incident again, gave the Chief the license plate numbers and asked who might be trying to bag a couple of marshals. Their vehicle had been singled out, probably followed. Marshall racked his brain but couldn't recall when he had first seen the black SUV.

"Did you use the service's credit card?"

"No, my partner used her personal card."

The silence on the other end lengthened. Anticipating the Newark Chief's next query, Marshall volunteered, "My partner, Inspector Mary Shannon and I are here because her mother is missing. Mary's sister Brandi, reported it."

Suddenly the voice on the phone got louder. "Mary is that you?" Hearing the tone of recognition in the New Jersey Chief's voice, Marshall put the phone on speaker and held it for her.

"Yeah Chief, it's me. You seen the BOLO on my mom?"

"Can't say that I have. Shoot me the particulars. You can reach me at 973-645-2405, any time, day or night." For a tough as nails broad who claimed not to make friends, she certainly had some obliging acquaintances. "Meanwhile, I strongly suggest you keep moving."

"Thanks, we will." Mary replied and nodded for Marshall to take the phone back.

After a few more questions for the Jersey Chief, Marshall ended the call. "No one targeting marshals. Seems it's just you, Mare. You are sooo special," Marshall taunted.

"Not in a short bus way," he was quick to add.

He avoided another bicep slam because Mary was distracted. "We're down to half a tank," she observed.

"Should be a gas station a few miles down the road. Let's fill up then check in."

Mary's stomach growled protesting the inadequate airplane food. "We should fill our tanks too," suggested Marshall.

"This looks promising. Pop's homemade pies and sandwiches," said Marshall looking up from his phone. "Pie makes everything better."

Still thinking, trying to make sense out of their recent SUV encounter, Mary nodded. She pulled into a gas station with pumps close to the building, and hanging tin signs advertising fresh baked bread creaking in the cold. _She shivered remembering the dream/nightmare where Marshall got shot. The old tin sign, the abandoned diner._

Marshall didn't notice her discomfort, still staring at his Blackberry. "Pies are behind us. We should double back anyway. Should I ask Eleanor to call your sister?"

Wrenching herself out of the memory of that awful dream, Mary played back Marshall's last sentence and replied, "Yeah, have her tell Brandi she needs to lead a Spartan life, and get out of the house ASAP. If she doesn't seem to understand, tell Eleanor to say Pikachu."

"Gesundhiet," Marshall replied.

Mary grumbled quiety, "She'd better remember."

"Your life in Jersey required secret passwords?" Marshall asked. He had learned a lot about Mary from their dreams, but they hadn't talked about her life in New Jersey.

Stopping the car by the pump, Mary turned off the engine and tossed the keys to Marshall. "It's a long story. I gotta pee."

With the car fully fueled and bladders and stomachs empty, they switched drivers, and headed for pie.

"We should change cars," Mary told Marshall, his hands on the wheel, but his eyes scanning.

"We'll find a rental place." Marshall directed concentrating on the traffic, scanning for cars whose route matched theirs.

Checking her Blackberry, Mary replied, "Nothin'." "But there's a Motel 6 in Kearney and it has a car rental within walking distance. We can stay there and make the switch in the morning."

"You're gonna lose your deposit," Marshall sing songed. "Call Varney when we switch and have the marshals pick this one up."

Looking up from her phone, she checked the traffic and her partner. "I need to call Brandi."

Marshall kept his eyes on the road, but listened to his partner's conversation with her traumatized sister. "Squish," she paused. "Yeah, it's me. Where are you?" Mary sighed and the crenellations on her brow relaxed. "Stay there. Don't call anyone. Hear me? No one. Stay out of sight."

"You should be scared. You have every reason to be scared. Just stay with Principal Stueber."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, put her on."

"Joanna? Sorry to drop Brandi on you." Mary paused, "Yeah it's. . . it's complicated, but it's best if she's with you."

"Thanks. I knew you would. Please, please, make sure Brandi stays put. Don't tell anyone she's with you –not even Mark. And don't let her call anyone. **ANY one**," She emphasized. Take her phone if you have to. Make sure she stays in the house, out of sight."

"Brandi can fill you in. I'll see you in the morning."

After Mary hung up, Marshall inquired, "Brandi made it to the 'the Spartan lifestyle?"

"Yeah," Mary sighed. "Mrs. Stueber was principal at Paramus High when Brandi and I went there. The Spartans are the high school's mascot."

"You're friends with the principal of your old high school? Did you spend a lot of time in the principal's office?" Marshall inquired. He could see his brash blonde friend using her fists and feet to right some wrong, to defend herself, or her sister."Seems an unlikely friendship."

"Kind of like you and me Marshall," she commented quietly.

"We are stopping for dinner, a real sit down meal." Marshall commanded. He was running on fumes and he knew his partner wasn't doing much better. The adrenaline crash, when it came, wouldn't be pretty.

Marshall's eyebrow rose when she didn't complain. Hearing no response, Marshall kept his hands on the wheel and spared a glance at the woman in the passenger seat.

Sensing his gaze, Mary looked up from her clasped hands and grunted "Hmm?"

"Dinner, Mare. Food. It's been 6 hours since we ate, and airline food hardly counts."

Realizing how much it takes to keep Marshall fueled, Mary felt bad for starving him. Contrite, she acquiesced "Sure. Someplace we can sit and relax, well, at least sit."

"Whatever looks good to you," she added, lightly patting his arm.

Marshall dove for the curb outside a burger and pie place Mary hadn't even noticed.

"You had your eye on that place all along, didn't you Doofus?" she accused. Marshall smirked "Why would you think that?" He wanted to take her mind off their reason for being there, if only for a few minutes.

Marshall parked a half block down and the couple stretched their legs. Mary's thoughts circled around the conundrum of Jinx's disappearance or kidnapping. Marshall considered only Mary. He knew she was turning the situation over in her mind. Trying to see it, understand it from angle after angle. Looking for an answer. Looking for a place to start looking. He was glad she acknowledged her hunger. He knew it was difficult to persuade her to take care of her own needs. Her mind only had room for one problem. She would go till she dropped, never realizing how long it had been since she had eaten, or rested.

Dinner was passable. The pie was good. Mary even had to admit that she did feel better. Mary was wiping the last of the burger grease from her mouth with a thin paper napkin, while Marshall devoured most of her slice of pie. His own had been inhaled. They sat in a booth facing the door's glass window. The window next to their booth showed what was happening in the street outside. Suddenly Marshall saw Mary's head jerk up. She dropped the napkin, slid out of the booth and was out the door before Marshall could react.

Craning his neck, trying to follow Mary, to see what had triggered her, Marshall took a few seconds to drop some bills to cover their meal, and followed. The bell on the door tinkled merrily, but he was certain nothing happy was coming.

Marshall spotted her running in the street heading toward a black SUV. "Mare, no" he shouted. She ran on undeterred. The SUV's hood jumped up as the driver stepped on the gas and aimed for her. "Noooo," Marshall wailed. Ducking down to get a bead on the driver of the black car, Marshall drew his gun then heard a thump. He popped up, sighted his Glock at the SUV, but didn't shoot. Mary was down, her body rolling toward the curb.

Holstering his gun, he was a few steps away when he heard the thunk of her head hitting the cement curb. She came to a stop lying on her side in the leaf and dirt filled gutter. Marshall skittered to her side. Moving his hand from the bruise on her face to her carotid artery, he let out a sigh of relief at the strong pulse.


	3. Chapter 3

Jinxed Redux

Chapter 3 – Bed bugs

"Mare," he bleated. He knew Mary was tough, but he hadn't seen the SUV hit her. He wasn't sure how badly she was injured. He put his hand on her neck and was relieved when he felt a strong pulse. "Mary. C'mon, open your eyes. I'm hovering, you know you hate that." He brushed the leaves out of her face. "I'll start quoting stats from the 1932 world series," he threatened. He knelt in the street, curled over his partner covered in leaves and dirt, wet from the snow and ice. Parked cars on either side gave them some cover. Marshall had seen the SUV drive off, but only Mary registered on his consciousness.

Mary blinked, once, twice. Finally focusing on the handsome hawk faced man. "Marshall?" she croaked in a reedy voice. "What the hell happened? How did I get here? And where in hell is here?"

"You got hit by a truck, technically, an SUV. It spun you around; you fell, and rolled to the curb." Marshall said tenderly." She was coherent, and complaining. He took a deep breath, hoping she would mimic him and give him a clue about the condition of her ribs.

"A truck? Goddamn," she grunted. "That explains a lot. Now I know how a bowling pin feels after it gets hit and spins into the goddamn gutter," Mary groaned and tried to sit up.

"Mare, let me check before you start moving around." Marshall unzipped her jacket and gently peeled it open. The insulated padding had provided some protection. His anxiety receded a notch when he didn't find any blood.

"You are going to have a hell of a bruise, Sunshine," he pressed on her shoulders, slid his hands gingerly around her ribs and pushed gently on her hips. "Everything seems connected. You ready to try getting up?:"

"I was ready before you started feeling me up, Purvis," she groused. Mary lifted her head, and carefully rotated it. Raising herself up on one elbow, she attempted to sit up. She paused and then got her feet under he. He grabbed both arms and lifted her to sit. She looked at her legs, splayed out in front of her. Still holding her arms, Marshall helped her to her feet, watching carefully memorizing every movement that resulted in a wince or whimper.

Mary shook him off and took a step, followed by two more. Since she was standing and walking on her own, albeit slowly, he let her go. He couldn't help following close enough to catch her if needed. As long as she didn't check behind her, she wouldn't know.

"C'mon, lets get out of here before they come back and try again," Marshall trotted to their vehicle. He wanted to rail at her for making herself a target, for putting herself in harm's way, for being stupid with the life of the women he loved. But that wasn't what she needed.

Gingerly climbing into the passenger seat, while he watched and held the door, Mary secured her seat belt. _He's treating me like a witness_. "Where are you heading?" Marshall was anxious to get her to safety, and stepped on the gas. The tires spun on the ice, before gaining traction. Marshall turned the heater on full blast, worrying that the cold and injury might cause shock.

"We are going where I can assess your damages. And you can get a hot shower." After rolling in the leaves and street dirt, she did want a shower. _How does he do that?_ Not for the first time she wondered just how much about her was revealed in their dreams. Maybe he just paid close attention. Leave it to Doofus to focus on the details and remember them. To keep her mind off the pain, she tried to categorize what she knew about Marshall from their shared dreams.

Despite his tire squealing take off, Mary saw they were only going around the block. Almost behind the burger and pie place was a small 'no tell' motel. One story of drab colored stucco with frosted windows, few rooms and parking right in front.

Marshall pulled into an empty space, noted the room number in before them and caught Mary's eye. "Stay," he admonished. "Don't move."

"I'm not a dog, numnutz," she complained, but stayed curled up using the arm rest for support. She winced as she turned to scan around the vehicle, grateful that Marshall on his way to the office, didn't notice. All she could remember was running toward the black SUV, trying to get a bead on the driver and passenger. Hmm. She hadn't remembered that before. Maybe she would eventually be able to remember what they looked like. She'd better remember before meeting those murdering deviant cut throats again. _Deviant?_

The fact that he was back in no time meant she had dozed off. He had their bags on one shoulder and was reaching into the vehicle for her hand. Normally she would have berated him for this gentlemanly assist. This time, she allowed it, and Marshall's anxiety raised a degree.

He opened the door and let Mary enter, tamping down his desire to help, allowing her to walk in on her own. The room was small, the carpet dingy and the curtains not quite thick enough to block out the streetlight. One bed, one upholstered chair, a nightstand and lamp, and a bathroom. "

Stopping at the edge of the king size bed, Mary turned and looked at the small room, "All the comforts of home, just not as clean. This your idea of a palace?"

"You got it Princess," he joked. Since she wasn't making any motion towards the bathroom and the shower he knew she wanted, he urged her "Strip." He was worried about Mary. The sooner she got a warm shower, the better her chances of avoiding shock.

"Strip? Geez Purvis. Is what it takes to get your motor revved? Getting hit by a truck your idea of foreplay?" Her attempt to tease came out thin her voice creaky. Wearily she shook her head "Doofus, this is so not the time."

"Mare, get your clothes off and get in the shower." Marshall ordered. Realizing he was so upset he had practically shouted at her, he added quietly, "You'll feel better."

"Providing this dump has any hot water," she grumbled. "Take this," he held out her shower stuff. _When had he gotten that? "_Give me your clothes."

"Grabby much, horndog?" she was trying for lascivious, but she just sounded tired. "You got a clothes fetish now?" She wanted a shower, couldn't wait to wash the dirt from the gutter, the dried 'stuff' out of her hair. She knew a hot shower would coax the adrenaline of the near misses – _and the hit_-down to a normal level, and sooth the jitters from constant alertness.

"I hate it when someone tries to kill me," she complained. She closed her eyes, wishing she were already in the shower. Actually, she wished she was clean and resting in the lumpy bed with the pilled cover.

"That's why I only let them try on alternate Wednesdays," Marshall cajoled. "Clothes Mare," he reminded her.

She'd started to take her jacket off, but winced when she moved her shoulder. Marshall reached over to ease her arms out of the sleeves, then started unbuttoning her blouse.

"We know they're tracking us. The device has got to be on you. I checked everything else - the car, our bags, my boots, yours, my clothes, there's nowhere else to look." Marshall was surprised he could hold a conversation. His attention was riveted on Mary, examining every inch of skin as it was revealed.

"Have you checked our bags?" Mary asked, as she reached for her boots. He was afraid that she would pass out if she got her head below her waist so Marshall gently pushed her back on the bed and pulled them off, one by one.

"Yes, I believe I already mentioned that." Marshall replied quietly. Mary was unzipping her pants, and working them down her legs. He wanted to help, but thought she would object. No reason to rile her up. The fact she let him help as much as he had meant she was rattled as well as bruised. She wasn't the only one. Mary was sitting before him gloriously naked. So entranced, he forgot to look for bruises.

To distract himself, Marshall was feeling the hems and seams and lining of Mary's jacket, setting her boots for inspection next. As she reached for the towel, Marshall had retrieved from the tiny bathroom Mary caught Marshall looking at her. It made her heart ache and belly flip in ways it never had before. _Cosmic hotline? Maybe there is something to it._

Quickly wrapping the inadequate bath towel around her, Mary started toward the bathroom.

With less skin exposed for his contemplation, Marshall, returned to the here and now and said, "Wait."

"Wait, I need to examine you. Check if anything's broken, see what bruises you managed to accumulate. Turn around."

Mary dropped the towel and slowly pirouetted to face him. She felt Marshall's gaze on her backside, on her breasts, her ribs, ankles, and arms. She had been naked in front of before, but this was Marshall. She felt shy and nervous as he studied her. She stopped with her back to him.

Quietly, he approached her, put his hands on her shoulders and whispered, "I'm going to touch you Mare. I'm sure you'll let me know if it hurts. Just try not to deck me when I hit a painful spot." She couldn't see his worried grimace. He hated the thought of causing her pain and worked to keep his touch warm and soft.

Kissing the top of her head, he closed his hands around her skull. His fingers grazed the sides and he stopped when she groaned. Lifting her hair he said "Bruise, scrape actually, right behind your ear. Not such, just a few drops in the scrape. I'll get some ice for that." _Internal hemorrhaging, hematoma, he worried._

His fingers sloped around her jaw down to her neck and collarbone. Flexing her shoulders, arms and wrists, he noted fewer bruises than he had imagined. He sighed with relief. Mary was good at hiding hurts. She'd been doing it her entire life. Naked was the only way he could tell where she was injured and how badly. Fortunately, she seemed willing to let him.

Continuing his examination he noted that her torso looked clear except for a red area on the ribs of her right side. _Impact from the SUV_.

Moving in front of her he pressed lightly on her ribs, watching her face for discomfort. The right side brought a wince, but no outcry. "Probably not broken," he murmured aloud. He'd feel better if she would go to a hospital, but that wasn't going to happen.

Sliding down to her waist, compressing the padding of her hips, he reached to caress and compress the cheeks of her ass. Mary leaned into him and Marshall was relieved to feel her relax in his arms.

Squatting he ran both hands down each leg from thigh to ankle. Finally he asked her to lift and rotate her feet, checking her ankles and the bottom of her feet. Never had anyone take such care with her body. She was amazed, surprised, embarrassed and a bit turned on.

"Looks like you got lucky, Sunshine." Actually he had gotten lucky. Any hurt to her pierced him twice as deep. Languorous from his gentle pat down, Mary put her arms around his neck and pulled him into a soft kiss. A kiss that brought the roughness of his clothes against her naked skin.

Pulling back, Marshall looked into her eyes, and kissed first the right then the left eyelid followed by her nose. As he worked his way down to her chin, he stopped. He knew she needed that shower, and he needed to regroup and focus on finding that damn tracking device.

"Now, go take your shower, you dirty wench," he urged, lightly patting her ass.

"Yes, sir, Marshall, sir," she drew back, saluted and headed to the bathroom, trailing the towel behind her saucily. Dazed by her compliance, and the sight of her retreating form, Marshall shook himself like a wet dog, resetting his attention. He sat on the end of the bed and picked up her clothes one by one, checking for the tracking device he knew had to be there. _These guys aren't psychic. They had to have help._

He dug through his go bag and unzipped a small black fabric bag. He fitted a head band with a light and flip down magnifying lens on his head muttering, "Knew this would come in handy." The headband played havoc with his hair, but Mary wasn't there to point it out. She got a kick out of seeing him with less than perfect hair. She told him his duffle bag must be some sort of magic because it seemed to hold more that the exterior would indicate.

Marshall finished checking her clothes frustrated by his lack of success. The shower squealed as the faucet turned the shower off. Mary emerged soon after, wrapped in a towel, with another one around her head. She had used both towels, all the towels actually. Marshall would have to drip dry if he took a shower.

He was delighted to watch her saunter out of the bathroom. Even with the towel, she was an enjoyable sight. His gaze narrowed to her neck and the necklace she wore. "Mare? Do you ever take this off?" He stood in front of her and fingered the miraculous medal hanging between her breasts, distracting him in the very best way.

Although she had suppressed a giggle at the sight of Marshall's hair, Mary gave his question serious thought. With the magnifying lens of the headlamp raised he looked like some techno-geek robo-knight. She let that image go and focued on searching her memory."Umm, " she finally replied. "I took it off last week when we went to that fancy restaurant. I wore the necklace you got me, remember?"

Marshall remembered how she had looked that night, then rolled his eyes recalling the many vulnerable spots of her quaint little apartment. "God Mare, a boy scout with a butter knife could break into your place."

"And that's why," she drawled, running her hands up to his shoulders, "I usually stay at your place." She reached behind her for the clasp and removed the medal and held it out for his inspection.

Her closeness and the tentative hold of the towel proved too much of a distraction. Gathering his investigative wits Marshall, backed away to look at the medal. Handing it back to her, he gestured for her to wait

"Mare, put it down here." Marshall sat on the bed close to the nightstand. He zeroed in on the medal, carefully examining first one side then the other.

Handing it back to her, he asked, "Does this feel different?"

"What do you mean?" Mary wondered. It had to be tiny. Picking up the medal she held it between her thumb and forefinger as she often did while deep in thought. Closing her eyes, Mary rubbed it and said "Uh, yeah, it feels – thicker? Rougher, maybe."

Marshall acknowledged with a quiet "uh huh."

"This has got to be it, Mare." Looking over his shoulder Mary couldn't see any anomalies, but she trusted that Marshall did.

"Gimme, Marshall." She grabbed for the chain of the medal turning toward the bathroom. He was surprised that she was eager to get rid of it and had his finger holding it down. This was just about the only thing she had from her father, but she was ready to get rid of it if it meant their safety, his safety.

"No, not there." He picked up the medal.

Straightening up and stepping away from the nightstand, Mary tilted her head and gauged her partner's state of mind, retucking her towel to help him concentrate. "You gotta plan, partner?" she whispered, not wanting to break his concentration. If there was a way to get these killers off their tail, using that medal, Marshall would know.

"Get dressed Mare." Marshall urged. "We're getting out of here," he said as he dropped the medal into the vase of silk flowers that passed for a decorator touch. "You used all the towels."

Leaving the wet towels on the bathroom floor, they left the motel, checking the area carefully before getting in the car.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Motel Monologues

Marshall found another cheap motel, not far from the first. He figured their pursuers would go to the first motel, following the tracking device on the medal. They both knew a night attack would be the easiest to pull off, but they were too tired to lie in wait. At least Marshall was. He got Mary to lie down, and soon they both appeared to be asleep.

Dead tired from their harrowing day, Marshall had passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Despite his need for rest, Marshall slept lightly while on duty. This time, his duty was protecting his partner. He stirred after an hour or so. Something had changed. His body sensed the absence of Mary's body heat, even before he was awake.

The room was dark. Light from the street lamp leaked through the heavy drapes that didn't quite meet in the center. He spotted her blonde hair, shining in a spear of moonlight. Seeing Mary, boots in hand, almost invisible in her black leather jacket and dark jeans, ready to leave him, made his heart hammer.

"Mary," he exclaimed in a loud whisper, "where are you going?" He didn't want to startle her. She was capable of creating a scene the other 'guests' would remember. And, she was armed. He had to get her to stop, to get her to think.

Caught in mid sneak, Mary refused to face him, her body still angled toward the door. That gave him hope because she had stopped. She hadn't scrambled through the door-yet.

Since the mountain wasn't coming to Marshall, he levered himself to sit on the edge of the bed and reached up to clasp her elbow. "Tell me what you need," he whispered, turning her face to his.

That familiar selfless phrase broke her. Mary sobbed and turned toward him. She stood tall, breathed deeply and contemplated how to tell him, what to tell him. He rose and stood next to her, still holding her arm. He wanted to wait for her to speak, but couldn't help asking, "Are you going to leave your partner?"

She sighed deeply, remembering just how well this man knew her. "Yeah," she admitted. Maybe if she was honest she could make him understand why she needed to go. For once in her life she wasn't running from someone.

"Why?" He stood and moved his hand to lightly clasp her shoulder, not to restrain her, but to hold her attention.

"They want **me**. The tracking device was on **me**. They are following **me**. I can move faster alone, get to the bottom of this quicker." She spoke quickly, determined to convince him, to convince herself. "If I'm at the motel when they arrive, I can ambush them, sabotage their car, get the bastards," she said letting her anger take hold.

"Mare, no," he pleaded. "We're partners. We do things together, we do this together." He led her to the bed. "Sit down," Marshall requested. "Let's run through this, do a threat assessment. What do we know?" She didn't signal that she agreed, but she didn't bolt. He took that as a good sign. "What facts do we know?"

She sat.

Turning her face up to his she released her fear and anger with a hiss "We know there are some mother humpin cretins who have Jinx and are trying to kill me to keep me from finding her." _Cretins? Who says cretins?_

This was a leap, but it fit the few facts they had. Marshall was amazed and frightened by her quick unthinking call to action when it came to protecting her family or her witnesses, or him.

Mary had saved the day, saved his bacon several times in their brief partnership. Stunts he would never consider—like initiating phone sex to get the location of a perp—she pulled off. Marshall figured that Saint Inauspicious, patron of the foolhardy, protected her. Anyone else trying the moves she made would end up dead. Focusing on their current situation he added, "But we don't know who did it, who is pursuing you. . . .us," he amended. "We don't know how many goons they have, or what kind of firepower or god help us, explosives they could use. They don't care who goes down with you. That kind of willingness to incur casualties doesn't speak well for your chances of coming back alive."

Taking his face between his hands, he turned her to him. "I can't, I won't," he emphasized, "let your life be put in jeopardy."

"Marshall," she practically whined, "our lives are in jeopardy every day. It's our job.," she insisted. "It's my choice," she added stubbornly.

Looking in her eyes, to make her focus on what he had to say. "Yes, our jobs can be dangerous, but this isn't the job. This is personal, and you have to keep your perspective so we can figure the best way out of this for your mother, for us."

"Right?" he asked, pleading for her to agree. He had to make her understand that action without information would kill her, and that would be the end of him.

"Right," she mumbled, head down, hiding behind her hair. Mary didn't usually allow her choices to be overruled, but she recognized that she was reacting, not thinking. She didn't have a plan, and she knew that without a plan, she could end up dead. Marshall wasn't there just to back her up, he was here to proactively help_. This could take some getting used to. But I like it._

"Why would anyone kidnap Jinx?" he wondered.

"To get to me. To bring me here," she theorized. "The **fact**," she paused to emphasize the word, "that they put that tracker on my medal proves it."

"Everything's always about you, Mary, Mary quite contrary?" Marshall teased, although in this case, it seemed to be.

"Facts," she spit back, in no mood for banter. "You want facts," she hissed. "The tracking device means they planned this. They planned to get me here even before Jinx was taken." Suddenly she looked even more worried, "Shit. They could use Brandi too."

"Who would do that? Who would want you in Jersey?" Marshall asked. This made Mary pause. She'd been so focused on the hit squad she hadn't thought of the broader picture. Who would want her in New Jersey bad enough to come up with this complicated plot?

"Daddy," she said between gritted teeth, "my no good SOB bank robbing fugitive of a father."

Marshall knew Mary's father had scarred her. But this didn't make any sense."He left you years ago. Why would he go through all these hoops to get you to Jersey when you were in Jersey for years?" Marshall's logic derailed her current train of thought.

"Okay, maybe not him." Mary put her elbows on her knees, hands supporting her head. Marshall watched her movements, glad to see her so nimble after her yesterday. He knew she was turning the question over in her mind, looking for answers.

"Who have you pissed off lately?" he asked.

She snorted. "Who haven't I pissed off?"

"Bad enough to go through all these steps just to get you here? And why here? Why not just go to Albuquerque? They know where you live. " Marshall didn't want to acknowledge that they could have just taken Mary in Albuquerque. There were brief periods of time when he wasn't with her, couldn't protect her. If there were enough goons, she didn't stand a chance.

"Yeah, that doesn't fit either," she sighed.

Hoping, knowing he wouldn't rat her out, she confessed, "I've gotten letters from him, my dad, from time to time." Marshall saw her seven year old self, miserable and questioning. "He seems to know where I am and where to write me. If he knew I was in Albuquerque he would contact me there. He's never tried to meet me, so he doesn't need me to be in any particular place.

"So," Marshall continued, "he wouldn't take Jinx to lure you back to Jersey."

_Not after he left so he didn't have to deal with Jinx_. She nodded. "And he wouldn't try to hurt you," Marshall added.

"No," she nodded again. "He wouldn't physically hurt me."Her delivery was flat, as if the thought had never occurred to her before. Marshall would never plumb the depths of Mary's emotional damage – damage caused by her own father. He longed to salve her wounds, sooth the savage beast she could be.

"If it's not your dad, who would want you in Jersey bad enough to take Jinx?" Marshall and Mary thought about that for a while. Mary knew Jersey, knew the criminal element there. She hadn't been gone so long that all the players had changed.

"I don't know," she confessed, shaking her head wearily. "I can't think. Brain's asleep even if I'm not."

"I have to agree, judging by the fact that you were about to go solo on an unspecified number of unsubs."

Despite her need for rest, Marshall had a question he needed answered. "Just one thing," Marshall pressed. "Tell me what you're thinking, why you wanted to leave?"

Anger and frustration fueled her weary reply. "I want to get those sons of bitches who tried to kill me. If I'm at the motel when they arrive I can shoot them. I can keep them from shooting you," she spat the words at him. Turning her head away from him, hiding behind a curtain of hair she mumbled,"I'm thinking they'll kill you."Turning back to look at his face she added, "You'll get shot, just like in that dream. You'll bleed out in some abandoned storefront."

Marshall put his arm around her shoulder, wondering if he was imagining the tremors he felt. "I know that is upsetting. But Mary, nothing from those dreams has happened to either of us since we've been partnered. Why would it start now?"

Head down, she shrugged into his chest. Marshall waited, and waited. Finally she cleared her throat. "I just can't shake that awful feeling, the fear from that . . .that dream, scene, or whatever the hell it is. Every time I think of it, every time I see it, I . . . I'm frozen. I can't move. That's not me," she stated emphatically. "I shoot, I act, I , I can't stand by while you die."

Marshall could hardly imagine Mary motionless. Even sitting at her desk, she seemed to be in a whirlwind of motion, flicking her hair, smacking the monitor, slapping files into their folders. Mary was never still. Tonight, in her brief sleep interlude, she had managed to smack him. Nope, Mary didn't freeze. That she thought she had done so in the dream and would do so in real life was enough to scare her, and him.

Marshall put his arms around her. "I know, I know." He ducked his head to look into her eyes that glistened with moisture. "I get the same feeling every time I think about seeing you in a hospital corridor, on a gurney, gut shot and not breathing." His heart had fallen down through his boots at the memory. "But it hasn't happened Mare. Stay with me and I will do everything to see that it never happens," he promised fervently. "If you want to make sure I don't get shot, you have to stay with me."

She turned her tear filled eyes to his and asked "Really?" _Was it was just a ploy to get her to stay? She had to admit, it was a pretty good one._

Hoping the crisis had passed Marshall said as convincingly, "I believe so." She put her arms around his waist and turned her head to hear his heart.

"Trust me?" he asked. Mute, overcome, Mary nodded into his chest.

"Let's get some rest while we can." He stood up, taking her with him. Hands hanging at her side, Mary leaned into him, resting her head below his shoulder. His size always surprised her. He was so gentle; she almost forgot what a big man he is. Lean, but tall, and beneath that t-shirt she could see the definition of his pectorals. _Marshall must work out – a lot._

Dragging her baffled brain back from her partner's musculature, Mary whispered, "Okay." Her throat clogged with unshed tears. Mary felt his hands on her waistband.

"Whatchadoin Purvis?" she asked looking at his fingers unsnapping the button on her jeans.

"Just getting you comfortable, so you can rest," he murmured, as if trying to keep himself half asleep, and make her sleepy too. He slowly skimmed her jeans down her thighs, lightly caressing as he went.

Mary cocked her eyebrow and snarked, "Comfortable? So that's what you're doing? Seems more like you're trying to start something, Mann."

Marshall looked in her eyes. He had a silly grin on his moonlit face. "Good to know." He filed away that Mary tidbit for another time.

Mary put a hand on his shoulder and stepped out of her jeans. Her boots lay on the floor where she had dropped them. He took her hand, and tugged her toward the king sized bed they had been sharing. He lightly pushed on her shoulder, and she sat. Marshall pulled her against him then pulled them both down to the lumpy mattress. He grabbed the funky quilted bed cover and pulled it over them.

Mary settled, a few inches away from him. He wanted to hold her, but knew now was not a good time. He felt her hand at her side, between them. He folded his own hand over hers. She turned her hand to clasp his and gave it a brief squeeze. Marshall released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. It was all right. They were going to be all right.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Meet the Spartans

"Mare, Mare….c'mon Sunshine, time to rise and shine." Marshall leaned over his partner's back, grazing his knuckles on her cheek. Even in her sleep, Mary moved. She had flung her arm out and clocked him on the back of the head when she rolled onto her stomach. Not his favorite way to wake up, but in the grander scheme of things, acceptable. Since he was awake, he got ready to move out, letting his bruised partner catch a few more Zs. When she groaned, he moved back quickly. He didn't need a bloody nose to go with the tender spot on his head.

"There better be coffee," she threatened. He knew how caffeine dependant she was, but their current temporary abode held no such niceties.

"There will be coffee, but we have to get out of here first, and in order to do that . . . ." he let the end of the sentence trail off. She would figure it out, especially if there was coffee involved. The day was winter bright with the crispness that promised snow. He opened the drapes, and the sun made her squint and her blonde hair glow. Marshall smirked as he saw the halo around her. _She's no angel, unless angels are __proficient at profanity, kicking ass, and driving like Mario Andretti._

Mary rolled over to get out of the invading beam of cold sunshine. When she opened her eyes, Marshall could tell the reason for their trip, her missing mom, the attempts on her life registered. "Go, go get dressed," Marshall shooed her toward the bathroom. "You're bag is already in there. The sooner you get dressed, the sooner you get coffee," he sing songed. With another groan followed by a sleepy grumble about her need for caffeine, Mary complied.

After a brief call to the Jersey marshal's office, they left for the rental car agency. Marshall was certain that the fact that the rental car office had a pot of brown sludge that passed for coffee lowered the chance his partner would injure someone. The coffee wasn't up to Marshall's standards, but it reduced his partner's mood from unpredictable to irritated.

_Jinx has been missing more than two days. Was she still alive? _ Her body felt twitchy as her brain went round and round with the few facts she knew. Marshall was careful to be close but out of range of her hands, if not her words.

On the road, caffeinated in an innocuous sedan, Marshall cautioned, "Mare, I can't read plates at this speed." His head swiveled in the passenger seat, looking for the one car that was looking for them.

"See that's why you shouldn't stuff your head with trivia. You can't turn it fast enough!"she crowed.

The silver four door didn't look like law enforcement, but that was the only thing Mary liked about it.

"Uh Mare?"

"What?" she kept her eyes on the road, and had turned left, then right, onto a freeway, then off. Her driving appeared as confused as she was. Did Marshall really mean what he had said? It had convinced her to stay last night. When did she allow anyone to derail her plans. _But that was it. I didn't __have a plan. He knew that. How did he know that? How did he know she was trying to protect him. Isn't __that what she hated? Having decisions made for her?_

"Huh," she let out as she realized what she had been doing by trying to keep him out of harms way. She wasn't used to taking her partner into account.

Quiet, despite her morning coffee, Mary seemed to know where she was going, so Marshall leaned back. He looked relaxed, but Mary knew her partner was on alert. After the being followed yesterday, Marshall wasn't taking any chances.

She didn't remember dreaming last night. She was grateful not to relive Marshall's dream shooting. She remembered feeling safe next to him. She slept like a log after Marshall had massaged the worst of her sore muscles.

"If you are intending to do around the world in 80 days, this is a hell of a head start." He tried to keep his tone curious, not critical. "You've gone north, east, and west in the last hour. We're not being followed," he assured her.

"You were right about the tracking device, Doofus, but that doesn't mean there aren't goons tracking us. These mother humpin cretins are smart enough to watch rental agencies. I'm not putting my sister in danger too. We're ditching this car."

_Really. Why did we bother with the rental agency? _ She was making it difficult for anyone to follow them. Marshall figured she had something in mind. Asking would get him a caustic reply. _Silence. I'll wait her out. She'll tell me - - - eventually._

Checking lanes on either side, Marshall suppressed a smile when Mary decided to fill him in.

"There's a car dealer near Harrison that specializes in resto rods," she turned and grinned.

It wasn't a friendly grin. More of a cat about to eat the canary grin. Whatever she had in mind would involve some brand of Mary induced coercion, pain or both. Marshall was glad he wasn't the target, but not knowing what she had in mind made him feel uneasy.

"Resto rod. That's a car that looks stock on the outside, but is anything but under the hood."

"Give the man a cigar. NOS system, the works," she admitted.

"And the owner of said car lot is a friend?" his eyebrows rising.

"Not exactly," she dragged out the last word. "Something better" she declared. "A dirtbag piece of scum who owes me."

"Do I want to know why this person owes you?" He inquired archly. "Or would that make me an accessory after the fact?" Marshall didn't expect an answer. He didn't get one.

Someday he hoped she would share all of her story. What led the daughter of a federal fugitive to become a U.S. Marshal? It couldn't have been easy , but easy and Mary seemed to exist in different universes.

Avoiding highways and major streets they crabbed their way to the rust gated used car lot, where Larry, the owner, was eager but not happy to give Mary a deal on an innocent looking 'family' car. Marshall wasn't surprised by the Nitrous Oxide System and other custom parts when he opened the hood.

No bullet proof glass but it would do. Marshall was happy to buckle up in their stealth dragster.

The winter afternoon was quickly darkening when they arrived at Principal Stuber's house. Marshall was relieved there were no black SUVs. Mary slowed and parked several doors down from the two story brick house that was their destination. There were pots of evergreens atop the brick balustrade framing the steps to the white storm door.

Mary had called earlier. He could see a face in the door's diamond paned windows. It swung open as they approached and Mary rushed in. Marshall checked the street then followed and closed the door. Once inside he saw his partner being hugged by an older woman with dark brown hair muttering "Mary."

Marshall studied the woman. Mary endured the hug, and thanked the woman. Marshall noticed Mary was more anxious than before. Was she wondering if their presence was endangering the Stubers?

Despite the precautions they had taken, Marshall felt uneasy.

The woman noticed Marshall behind Mary and gave him the once over. Mary took the opportunity to escape. She caught his arm, and pulled him close. "Principal Stuber," she announced, smiling nervously, "this is my partner, Marshall."

"Joanna, please. We're all grownups here. I'm not your high school principal." Mary ducked her head in embarrassment.

"Partner, hmm?" she smirked. "Is that what you're calling it these days?"

Marshall's cheeks turned that slight shade of pink that Mary found amusing, and adorable. _Adorkable_, _she thought_. "No, Joanna. That's what law enforcement agencies call it," She wasn't ready to reveal their relationship just yet.

"Law enforcement," repeated Joanna. "You did it!" she practically squeaked. "Good for you," the older woman beamed. Turning to Marshall she explained, "The guidance counselor told Mary she could never make it in police work. Never tell Mary can't. Turning back to Mary, "You had to prove him wrong."

"Damn straight," Mary agreed. There was more to the story, but now was not the time.

Joanna took both Mary's hands in hers and added a heart felt "Good for you!"

Mary could only take so much adulation. Avoiding the congratulatory pat on the back she knew was coming, in addition to the hand clasp, she looked behind Joanna to the back of the house, and asked "Where's Brandi?" She needed to see her sister. Brandi had to have heard or seen something. Something that would lead them to Jinx.

"She's in the back bedroom," Joanna gestured. " Let me take your jackets. " After handing hers to Joanna, Mary knocked on the door called softly, "Squish? It's me."

The white panel door burst open as Brandi launched herself into Mary's arms. Waterworks streamed from the blondes bloodshot eyes. Mary knew this was just the latest round of tears. _Or beers. Probably __both_. As Brandi subsided to hiccups, Mary led her back into the bedroom.

Mary sat and patted the bed for Brandi to join her. The room was frilly and cheerful, but small. The room was lit by a pair of nightstand lamps. The white eyelet bedspread looked unused. It reminded Mary of the white French provincial bedroom set she had wanted when she was 8.

Marshall stood guard in the doorway. Mary peered at the slight blonde and hugged her close, letting Brandi wind down. Finally, Brandi loosened her grip, "I'm so glad you're here," she hiccupped. "I didn't know what to do."

"Tell me everything Squish, everything you remember, everything that happened the day, the week before Mom disappeared. Even the tiniest detail could help." Marshall took out a small spiral notebook.

Under Mary's careful questioning, Brandi told them everything she could remember. Finished, Brandi leaned against her sister, eyes closed, breathing in the comfort and safety that was Mary.

When they emerged from the bedroom, Joanna offered, "Stay for dinner? Pot roast." Mary looked at Marshall, who muttered for her ears only, "I'll do a perimeter check. If it's clear, we can stay."

While Marshall checked outside, Mary nodded to Joanna, "I still remember your pork chops, Joanna. How can I help?" Mary and Brandi followed their hostess to the kitchen where a small table and 4 chairs sat close to a warm oven emitting wonderful smells. Joanna brought out a bottle of wine, and glasses. Mary saw Brandi almost drop a plate when it slipped from her grasp as they set the table.

Marshall shook the cold from his shoulders as he entered the cozy kitchen He nodded the all clear to Mary and then joined them at the table. A deep serving dish of stew sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by warm crusty bread.

"I haven't had a home cooked meal since the last time Doofus," Mary confessed, gesturing toward Marshall, "made some French chicken thing I can't pronounce."

"Chicken Cordon Bleu, Mare" Marshall admonished between bites of savory meat. "It's not exotic."

"How do you get the meat so tender?" Marshall politely, inquired.

Joanna was delighted by his interest and shared her braising technique. Mary eyed Brandi, who sat quietly drinking more than eating. Brandi caught her watching. Looking to Joanna, Mary asked "Maybe you could give him your pork chop recipe?" Joanna smiled, and Marshall shrugged.

The smell of the home cooked meal made Mary tuck in with enthusiasm and Marshall needed no encouragement to follow her lead. Brandi picked at her plate, moving more food than she ate. Mary wanted to stay and see that Brandi ate something, but Joanna derailed that plan when she asked Mary to give her a hand cleaning up.

"Marshall's the kitchen expert. You sure you don't want him?" Joanna was having none of it. "Let him digest. Give Marshall and Brandi time to get to know one another." Realizing how much she owed the woman, Mary reluctantly followed. She caught Marshall's eye and glanced toward Brandi with a questioning look.

Marshall wasn't sure if she was encouraging him to talk to Brandi or asking him to figure out what was going on with her little sister. He noticed that Brandi seemed lost without Mary although her dazed look could be from several glasses of wine he'd seen her drink.

"Nice to meet you, Brandi, even if the circumstances. . ."he trailed off.

"Yeah, they suck," Brandi replied. Dinner had smoothed the worry lines from her forehead, but didn't dim her curiosity. She cocked her head and looked at him. "You're different," she announced.

"Really? " While Marshall knew his tall some would say gawky body was far from the norm, he preferred to think of himself as above average. He was taller than most, a distinct advantage when following witnesses, or criminals.

"You're not her type," she declared. "Mary usually goes for guys with muscles," she flexed her own slim bicep to demonstrate.

More amused than offended Marshall asked, "How do you know I don't have muscles?" The slight blonde shrugged in reply and said " I don't see any."

"I'm not exactly dressed for the gym. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there," Marshall rebutted. "Besides, I'm her partner, not her boyfriend."

"Uh huh, and you're here with her because . . . . ." Brandi wanted to know why this stranger was willing to entangle himself in the latest Shannon family drama. _He is a marshall, and kidnapping is a crime_. Her train of thought derailed as she realized Marshall had asked her a question.

"How many of Mary boyfriends have you met?"

Brandi snorted, and looked bemused, trying to count the ones she remembered. Giving up she said, "Enough. I know Mark." At Marshall's questioning look she slurred "Mark Stuber, Joanna's son."

"So, he and Mary dated?"

"Dated?" she snorted. "They were married."


End file.
